The Appearance of Relevance
by isabella2004
Summary: Ben Stone faces Philip Swann at his deposition.


**I've always been keen to do a story updating the saga of Ben and Philip Swann and exploring what happened after the end of 'American Dream.' In the meantime, here's my take on one of the pivotal scenes from that episode. In order for this story, and any other than may follow, to fit in with my own story arc, I'm condensing the timescale to shortly before the beginning of _Perceptions_. **

**I own nothing you recognise.**

**The Appearance of Relevance**

**April 1993**

At least it wasn't taking place in his own office, he thought as the elevator descended down to the second floor. That would have been the ultimate slap in the face. Although, quite frankly, thinking about Philip Swann anywhere in One Hogan Place in any position of superiority made his blood boil.

He hadn't been able to sleep properly since this whole thing started.

It had unfolded like some sort of nightmare, from the discovery of Sid Cohen's body to the challenging of the original conviction, the retrial he had lost and now this. If someone was looking to humiliate him, and he was pretty sure that was at least one of Swann's motives, then they were succeeding.

He knew he was the talk of the office. Hadn't he heard with his own ears two young assistants, barely in high school at the time of Swann's original conviction, discussing it in the mens' bathroom the previous week?

_"I don't know, I mean the guy got promoted off the back of that conviction."_

_ "You think they'll make him give it back?"_

_ "The promotion? No way. But he'll probably be working until he's about a hundred to pay Swann off if he wins this lawsuit."_

He knew he should have brazened it out, should have come out of the stall and watched their faces change when they realised that he had been listening. But something had stopped him. Something had made him stay there, hold his breath and wait until he had heard their voices grow faint and the door close behind them. That night when he had returned home to a silent, dark, empty apartment he had sat in front of the television, the volume muted and tried to pretend that there was someone he could talk to about all this.

Paul was gone, already plying his trade on Park Avenue, Adam was more concerned about how the lawsuit was going to affect the office as a whole and Claire...well she was barely in the door. He hardly knew her, save for the fact she had been assigned to assist him with the case in these last few weeks of her probation before being permanently assigned to one of the many EADA's in the office.

Dealing with all of this on his own...what it might mean for his job and his life if he lost...it was lonely.

When he reached the conference room door he paused and took a deep breath, telling himself that he could do this. That all he had to do was get through this deposition and...well...it wouldn't all be over but at least he could walk away with, hopefully, a little dignity intact. He knocked and waited. There were voices coming from inside, but no one made any move to either bid him enter or open the door.

_He wants me to knock again. He's enjoying this._

Though it was tempting to simply throw the door open and march inside, he had no wish to give Swann any ammunition that way either. He wouldn't have put it past the asshole to demand that he go back out into the corridor and wait to be invited in.

_Well, two can play at that game._

Turning, he leant back against the wall, folded his arms and waited, seemingly unconcerned to any bystander, until the door opened and Swann's state appointed paralegal greeted him with a fake smile.

"Mr Stone?"

He felt his hackles rise. She knew full well who he was having sat at Swann's defence table throughout his trial, tossing her hair and looking like the pretty appendage she was clearly meant to be. Swann had never once asked for her advice or opinion on anything because he thought he knew it all.

_Smug bastard._

"Come in."

She gestured for him to enter and when he did, Swann got to his feet and extended his hand, exactly the same way he had that morning outside the Court of Appeals. And just like that day, he ignored the gesture.

"It's good to see you again, Ben," Swann said smoothly, sitting back down at the table in the centre of the room. "Such a shame that it has to be under these circumstances."

He said nothing. Glancing at the court reporter sat in the corner, he recognised her as one used regularly by his office and if there was one thing he knew, it was that people loved to gossip. Well he wasn't going to play that game and, if at all possible, he wasn't going to play Swann's either.

"Well I know you're a busy man," Swann continued, smiling in that supercilious way that he must have known was so riling, "so shall we get started?"

"Fine."

The court reporter got to her feet and came over to stand beside him, holding out the Bible which he duly placed his right hand on. "Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you God?"

"I do," he replied and then sat down facing them both. A fleeting feeling of anxiety washed over him and he recalled his conversation with Adam when the older man had tried to convince him that he would be better off represented rather than thinking he could navigate this all by himself. Then Swann smiled arrogantly at him again and he found his inner steel.

The questions dragged on for what felt like hours and he was careful to give as little information as he could get away with. The vast majority of what was being asked seemed completely irrelevant and as the first hour rolled into the second and then into the third, he found his patience nearing breaking point. His desk was groaning under the weight of files, cases that desperately needed his attention and instead, here he was, playing to a murderer's vanity.

Swann lifted a large folder of documents and opened them, seemingly unconcerned by how long the whole process was taking. "Mr Stone, referring to schedule A of your 1984 federal return which has been marked Plaintiff's seventy one..."

He felt himself snap. "Haven't you wasted enough time? What's an ancient tax return got to do with this case?"

Swann blinked innocently. "We both stipulated to waive all objections except as to form, counsellor."

"Your questions have to have at least the _appearance_ of relevance."

"It's a deposition, not a trial. We both know everything's fair game..." Swann flicked his pen between his fingers and then leaned forwards as though they were about to share a confidence. "You wouldn't be trying to take advantage of my lack of formal training now...would you?"

"I am _trying_ to get out of here before the turn of the century."

Swann merely sat back in his chair, turning his attention back to the papers in front of him. "About that deduction Ben..." his mouth curled into a smile. "You should have gotten yourself a better divorce attorney."

It took every ounce of restraint that he had not to leap across the table and pummel the other man into the ground. Attacking _him_ was one thing, but starting to bring his family into it, his past, his mistakes, his choices...

_Jesus Christ..._

"You little creep," he said, mindful of the fact that everything was on the record and would be available for anyone to read. "This isn't a game."

Swann blinked again. "You don't like me, Ben?"

_God, he's deluded._

"You're just waking up to that?"

"Could that be the reason you used perjured testimony to convict me in the first trial?"

The words came out before he could stop them. "There is no proof that Russell Bobbitt..."

"Think again counsellor," Swann interrupted him, his smile dropping, his finger raised in warning. "I was _acquitted_ in the second trial therefore _a fortiori_ Bobbitt must have been _lying_ in the first _ergo_ you are collaterally estopped from trying to prove otherwise." He paused, the smile returning to his face as though the mask had never slipped. "It's not like this is my first case."

He held his breath, counting to ten in his head, willing himself to remain professional despite every nerve in his body jangling for him to say something...do something.

_Don't be an idiot. Don't prove Adam right. _

_ You've got this._

Swann held his gaze for a long moment until he seemed satisfied that the moment of retaliation had passed. "Now Ben...isn't it true that you were promoted to the position of Executive Assistant District Attorney immediately following my conviction?"

"Yes, I was."

"How fortuitous for you that the District Attorney's office rewards such excellence. Here's hoping they don't decide to rescind the offer and make you pay back the overpayment in your salary. Over eight years that could add up to quite a bit."

When it was all over and he finally closed the door behind him to start walking back towards the elevator, he felt as though his head had somehow become detached from his body and was floating a few feet in the air above. He called the elevator, got into the car and pressed the button for his floor, but it felt as though each movement, each action was being done by someone else and not by him. Swann had been confident and arrogant eight years earlier and nothing..._nothing..._ had seemingly changed.

Celia handed him a raft of messages as he passed by her cubicle but instead of attending to them, he tossed them onto his desk, flopped down in his chair and swivelled round to look out of the window at the skyline. Much as he hated contemplating defeat, a small part of his brain couldn't help but ponder over what would happen if he lost this lawsuit, if he had to pay Swann the ten million in damages that he was seeking, if the state went bankrupt as a result. What would he tell Laura and the kids? Everything that had been sacrificed, everything that had been lost would have been for nothing.

His office door opened and he turned as Claire came inside, closing it carefully behind her. "How did it go?" He shrugged. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, not really."

"Is there anything I can do?" He shook his head. "Ben...I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for."

"I'm sorry I ever doubted that Swann was guilty. I'm sorry I argued with you about it in the beginning."

He smiled ruefully, thinking back to their early conversations after Cohen's body had been discovered when she had asked, nay demanded, if he was absolutely sure of Swann's guilt. "You were just being objective, that's what being a good attorney is all about. I don't blame you for that."

"Well..." she hovered somewhat uncertainly. "If you need someone to, I don't know, cast an eye over the deposition transcript when it comes out...I'd be more than happy to do it."

"Thanks, I appreciate that. I guess all we can do now is focus on our outstanding caseload."

"I was just doing a summary for the Kevin Parker trial. Do you want me to bring it through when I'm done?"

"That would be great, thanks."

Once she was gone, he turned back around to look out of the window. Life went on. Cases needed prosecuted and the upcoming trial of Parker, a 16 year old schoolboy who had accidentally killed a fellow teenager whilst attempting to shoot a violent gun dealer, needed his complete attention. He couldn't afford to let his own problems cloud his ability to do his job...not while he still had it.

_You'll get him. Swann's not that clever. You'll get him. _

_One way or another. It's not over._

_It can't be._

His phone rang suddenly and he knew it would be Adam, wanting to know how the deposition had gone.

He took a deep breath and lifted the receiver.


End file.
